fantasy
by ppieaui
Summary: SIX UP!! the ultimatum of brotherhood vs x-men has been solved by union, save for pietro. until now. made to mingle with the x-geeks, mates who believe he has betrayed them and an angry twin. just HOW many things can i force on pietro? let's find out! AU!
1. same old, same old

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'Hur-ray.' Pietro thought blandly, watching the fury of bright light that was his sister suddenly erupt into the darkened field. 'Scarlet is here to save the day.'  
  
He crossed his arms and waited for his sister to approach him with whatever angry and cutting comment she had for that day. It took as long as normal, which felt like an eternity for the blonde. He shuffled into two other positions while he waited, thoughts running faster then normal in his anxiety.  
  
Even when he was on her side (short amount of time as it seemed) he generally had the same nervous, and still aggravated feeling.   
  
He'd told Lance, and he said it was understandable; not many brothers enjoyed being shown up by their sister. But then again, not many brothers had crazy, all powerful sisters, so he had generally gotten used to the phrase, 'suck it up.'  
  
At least when they were on the same side he could say, 'Look! WE won.' Now it was just upsetting. Not to mention that Wanda almost always picked him out.   
  
Well, there never was a time where she didn't get a good hit in, so it wasn't 'almost always' but 'always.'  
  
Gambit and Sabertooth always stared at him as if he were completely mad, but he would never leave the scene of battle. Maybe it was some sick, twisted need to have ANY form of his twins attention, but he just couldn't bring himself to run away. Not while she was there.  
  
Maybe he was just hoping for some form of respect. He was standing his ground. But he bet she simply thought of it as stupidity.  
  
"You piece of scum!" The Scarlet Witch was hissing at him as a greeting, and Quicksilver sighed.  
  
'Yeah, yeah, I get it.' He thought, miserable as usual about his sister's anger, but he had grown used to the unnatural feeling. No, not quite used . . . -numb- to it. It was just a dull ache that she liked to jab into every so often.  
  
Quicksilver supposed he had romanticized the meeting of brother and sister. Not that he had actually wanted it in his later years . . . No, it was a fantasy. A child wants to be a superhero, live in Bumblyburg, or a pony for their birthday. Pietro had wanted his twin sister back. As farfetched as it was, Pietro had longed for it, daydreamed of it.  
  
When he met perfect strangers, he could clearly remember saying, 'I'm Pietro. I have a twin sister. She'll be coming home soon.'  
  
But as time progressed and he realized this was just not going to happen, he stashed it away with all of his other wild dreams. Sure, he took it out every once and a while and thought about it. Polished it, relished it, allowed himself to fantasize of it. But reality would soon kick in, and he would have to put it back and move on.  
  
And now she was here.  
  
And he had to admit, it was depressing.   
  
Our young Pietro hadn't even been told reason of this little get together. Magneto, his dear old dad, seemed to have realized what a great distraction he proved to be for his daughter, and told him to merely, "Hold them off for as long as possible."  
  
Of course, they all knew it meant, "Let Wanda pound you as long as you can take it."  
  
They were at a skyscraper. Not necessarily Pietro's favorite place, but that was fine, as he wasn't climbing up there. Just Gambit.   
  
Quicksilver spared a glance upwards to the flashing pink lights that had been steadily going for about half an hour, as Scarlet Witch approached.  
  
She looked like she was waiting for some sort of greeting.  
  
He wasn't exactly sure what to say. 'Here I am on a silver plate! Have at it!'  
  
"No way they'd leave such a weakling as a guard." She acted as though she were muttering to herself, but they were half a field away, so she was actually yelling, which kind of gave it away.  
  
He was almost surprised to hear Avalanche's voice, but didn't bother to make out what words were being spoken.  
  
So the entire Brotherhood was out for this one? What did they know that he didn't?  
  
'Probably everything.' He muttered to himself miserably.  
  
"Why don't I just go on up there and see what they're up to?" Scarlet Witch asked coyly, and began levitating up. Quicksilver made no attempt to stop her. It would be nice to see Gambit limping to the base for once.  
  
He was tempted to wave, but knew that would probably just get her mad. Odd as it seemed, he didn't like it when she was mad at him-- when she had a reason, anyway.  
  
"Quicksilver." Avalanche greeted stonily, having approached while he was watching his sister.  
  
"Hello." He greeted with a nod. "What's up?"  
  
He graced the blonde with a withering look and glanced upwards. "This won't work." It took a moment for Quicksilver to realize he was referring to whatever plan Magneto had come up with.  
  
He resisted the urge to ask him questions on the subject. "So?" He said.  
  
"So?" Avalanche repeated. "If it's not gonna work, why try it, genius?"  
  
"Well, it got all of you out here, didn't it?" He asked, acting like he knew what was going on quite well.  
  
Avalanche looked sick. "How quickly you turn."  
  
He opened his mouth to respond, the realized he didn't really have anything to say to that. He shrugged one shoulder. "Things change."  
  
The brunette shook his head, as the other two members of the Brotherhood finally made it.   
  
"Holy shit, yo! Look!" Toad was crying.  
  
And they did.  
  
"What the--"  
  
Scarlet Witch, for some inexplicable reason, had actually passed out!   
  
She was falling . . . surely Remey's cards weren't that powerful?  
  
"How --" Quicksilver breathed, but couldn't find it in him to finish the sentence.   
  
He watched, pure horror painted on his face, as his sister's body tumbled to the ground. Her face was the perfect picture of bliss and relaxation as she dropped to her fate, although none of the boy's could make this out.  
  
His mouth worked for about a nanosecond.  
  
"No--" He gasped at such a pace that no one surrounding him would've been able to decipher it. Before anyone could even react to the sight of Scarlet Witch, literally, he was off.  
  
"Quicksilver!" Avalanche hollered, but he paid no heed.   
  
'We're not even on same sides anymore, Lance,' He thought crossly. Lance was -supposed- to be happy to see the blonde pull an idiotic stunt.  
  
In a few fits of boredom in the past, Pietro had tried bolting up walls, much to Lance's dismay. The highest he had ever been able to reach was the fourth floor, without injury that is.  
  
He estimated for a safe catch and adjust rate, he would have to catch her at about the seventeenth. And she was falling fast.  
  
He grit his teeth and pushed his legs harder. He could rest later, he needed to get enough speed to get high enough!  
  
He couldn't even keep track of his own feet, something he enhanced eyes had almost always been able to do. Quicksilver hated the feeling of his legs stretching like this, but that's what he would have to do …  
  
The wall was approaching, fast for even him.  
  
He could hear the last echoing sounds of "--ver!" From Avalanche, and it was getting slower. Everything moved slower when he ran. Even Scarlet Witch's body, although only slightly. It had always reminded Pietro of people moving in a thick, thick water. Trying to walk, but they had to work through so much gelatinous air, and for some reason, Pietro could just zip through it.  
  
It was almost an addictive feeling, but he tried desperately not to focus on it. That usually caused him to either trip or get hit by an enemy who he wasn't paying attention to properly.  
  
With a quick jump, as nothing Quicksilver had done was slow, he landed on the wall right next to a window on the second floor and started pumping his legs.  
  
She was going faster then he had expected. He would have to catch her sooner. Perhaps the nineteenth. She was almost past the twenty-second.  
  
Defying gravity with a cockiness no one but Pietro Maximoff, and maybe his father, could muster, he commanded his body to move faster. He was tempted to swear when he saw his sister's body start to teeter in the wind-- moving things were much harder to catch-- but last time he spoke at this speed, he'd had a hard time closing his mouth. Not really a comfortable feeling.  
  
Faster. Faster, faster, faster.  
  
The windows whizzed by and he counted each, ninth, tenth, eleventh. Her head was now facing downwards. 'Good.' He thought. 'Just stay like that.'  
  
Fifteenth, sixteenth, seventeenth. He was starting to loose speed!  
  
'Not now!' He growled angrily, noticing the minute change of pace with panic, although anyone else would've found the task of differing one silver and green blur from another impossible.  
  
He could feel each footfall becoming more and more valuable, which was very bad. Running was supposed to be one fluid movement, not a collection of steps.  
  
'Faster,' He told himself, but his body was yelling back, 'SLOWER!'  
  
Nineteenth. He counted, then felt a ping of worry, staring at the window as if it knew the answer to his question. She should meet him about-- WHAM!  
  
Her body collided with his at a startling rate, slamming into his chest and effectively knocking the wind out of him. Ignoring that, he quickly wrapped his sister in his arms and turned in mid-air. Had to keep his feet on the building; if he started freefalling, they were both gone.  
  
Relief flooded him as his feet hit brick with a comforting slap. His sister's weight was a little startling, but nothing he couldn't handle. The problem, he realized quite rationally for his predicament, was that he still hadn't been able to recover from that impact. His body was screaming for oxygen.  
  
Irrational for about a fraction of a second, he thought, 'It deserves it! Didn't listen to me at all when I said faster!'  
  
He didn't realize how needed and invigorating air -was- until his throat finally gave in and let air pass through it.  
  
It was a rather odd sight to see Quicksilver panting, but that's what he was doing as he flew down the building.   
  
He began counting the windows; he had to start preparing to meet the ground. Cradling his sister closer, so as not to loose his grip (he told himself) he attempted to slow his pace.  
  
He told himself not to worry, if he got to the ground and still needed to run, he had space. Quicksilver noticed an open area to jet off into at a speed most would call immediate, but for him, it was way too lengthy; eight, seven, six.  
  
A person's head was out the window. He smirked in a moment of pure adolescent glee as he contemplated whacking 'em upside the head. But that would probably result in death, so he politely refrained.  
  
Scarlet Witch made a small sound in the back of her throat, startling him only slightly. 'Don't wake up,' He prayed.  
  
Normal Wanda reaction to being anywhere near her twin was not exactly healthy for Pietro, and when she woke up, she would probably be dazed and confused and angry.  
  
Two. One.  
  
He grit his teeth and slammed into the ground with a loud SMACK! of feet meeting pavement. He forced himself to move, as he would crush Scarlet Witch into the ground if he fell now, and at this speed, she could be injured for life.   
  
'Keep going.' He chanted, his legs screaming in protest. 'Keep moving. Keep going. Don't stop.'   
  
Finally feeling as though he had slowed down enough, he allowed himself to fall to his side, lifting his twin's body away from the ground, although it was perfectly safe where it was. He skid for a moment against the ground, panted, and ignored the scorching feeling of his body grinding against pavement. Dazed.  
  
He heard the last bit's of his code name being yelled by random members of the Brotherhood, and let go of Scarlet Witch. His attempts to sit up were halted almost immediately.  
  
"What were you thinking?!" Avalanche was crying, moving towards them in a jog.  
  
"Wha . . ." Wanda murmured, her body shifting into a sitting position even while still in the process of waking. Pietro wanted to respond, but couldn't, as he hadn't even come close to recovering from the rib crushing, let alone the run itself. Wanda's hand pressed against her forehead irritably, as if that would improve her apparent headache, and she turned to Pietro and immediately sneered. "Well -you- certainly don't improve my mood."  
  
'Yeah, yeah, I get it.' He wanted to say, but couldn't quite figure out what button to press to make those words come out.  
  
Avalanche bent down next to the pale boy, looking horrified, "That was--you idiot--I can't--you stupid--"  
  
Quicksilver closed his eyes in confusion; that was the tone Lance always used before he'd left them . . .  
  
He was supposed to be smacking him around, not checking his heart-rate.  
  
"What's going on?" Scarlet Witch sounded a little annoyed with the fact that Quicksilver was injured without her help, which, strangely enough, she caused.   
  
He wanted to reach out to her. She had to've suffered a concussion.  
  
Idiot, he told himself. If he kept on caring about his sister like this, he was going to end up getting killed . . .  
  
"Pietro," Avalanche was saying, but he was saying it -so- slowly . . . like a cartoon or something . . . He shook his head and allowed the black to cover his vision. He needed sleep, his body demanded it.  
  
And people called -him- high-maintenance.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
a.n: plot, plot, where's the plot? the next chapter, my friend! but be patient, please, i have quite a few other stories to work on ^__^ 


	2. time after time

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"What happened to Pietro, yo?" Todd's slang somehow managed to come off as sacred as he approached the group slowly, Freddy not too far behind. He had become used to the idea that when Quicksilver was involved in a battle that it tended to end rather hastily, but this was just ridiculous.  
  
He had barely managed to call out a warning of the falling body before Pietro ran off; and Todd thought he was used to the fast exits Pietro happened to delight in making. This time he barely had time to blink before the teen was stumbling back to them, cradling his twin, trembling with exhaustion.  
  
The sight had been a little frightening for the youngest member of the Brotherhood; Pietro, -Quicksilver-, unable to even hold himself up? He'd collapsed. Quicksilver had -collapsed.-  
  
But if Lance had heard the young man's question, he ignored it, simply swearing almost violently to himself as he bent down. "What did he think he was doing?" He demanded angrily to no one. And as usual, no one replied.  
  
Wanda snickered and stood almost in defiance to throbbing currently residing in her skull. "Something stupid, as usual."  
  
Lance said nothing, but grit his teeth angrily. He made only a small sound of effort as he slung Pietro over his shoulder in an oddly casual manner. It would've been a fairly easy feat for anyone.  
  
The boy weighed 115, if that. Lance vaguely remembered watching the blonde scurrying all around the kitchen, looking desperately for something to eat that didn't have any carbohydrates. He thought this was some idiotic and mainly vain diet until Pietro explained-- his body burned off carbohydrates faster then he breathed. It did nothing for his body, and if he didn't eat something that gave him bodily value, he wouldn't be able to run.  
  
He'd even figured out some equation for how much food he had to eat for how long he ran. It reminded Lance of his first foster mother, who suffered from extreme diabetes.  
  
Lance was thankful for all this as he had no trouble carrying the silver haired teen away from the building.  
  
"Wait, Lance, what about--"  
  
"We can worry about the sky-scrapper later. Pietro needs help, now." He grated out, able to predict the words easily. Wanda's attitude was growing increasingly annoying. 'My twin nearly killed himself to save me? What's the big deal? I have to go show off my mind-boggling powers!'  
  
"Are you crazy?" Wanda demanded, stepping in front of Lance. "He's the enemy Lance. -Remember?-"  
  
"He needs help." He said this flatly, no room for argument. But he knew this statement was false-- there was always room for argument. It was kind of like Jell-O that way.  
  
"Magneto can help him." Lance was shocked to hear none other then Freddy make the quiet statement. He hadn't heard the large boy approaching from behind, and he now looked somewhat timid under Lance's shocked stare.  
  
It was strange to see anything even resembling timid on the huge mutant, but he supposed it made sense. It was obvious that they all had a hard time accepting the fact that Pietro left. 'Obviously,' Lance thought sarcastically bitter. 'I mean, I have him slung over my shoulder.'  
  
"He made his choice." Freddy was finishing softly, "And we made ours."  
  
"Besides, yo, Scott wouldn't be too happy to find Pietro coming home with us."  
  
"I can't picture many people being happy to see Pietro coming to their home." Wanda looked very pleased with her wit.  
  
"And since -when- do you care what Scott says?" Lance bit at Todd, much more viciously then deserved, as he was really the only one he could take his anger for Wanda out on.  
  
Todd shuffled uncomfortably, but said nothing.  
  
"I'm taking him with us. He needs help. If the X-Geeks can't handle that, I'll take complete responsibility if you turn out to be a bunch of pussies." Lance said flatly.  
  
Todd and Freddy hesitantly exchanged and look; Lance didn't bother to wait for their decision, and started for the Brotherhood's new home. The home that just happened to belong to the X-men, and where Xavier, and Scott Summers resided. That last of which happened to think he was king of all that walked the earth.  
  
Which didn't bode well with Lance, because he had always thought of -himself- as the king of all that walked the earth.  
  
The greeting at the X-house was pretty much what they all expected. Kurt, who had been standing on the main stairwell, took one look at Lance and immediately appeared next to his side, staring as if the teen was insane.  
  
"Vhat the--"  
  
"Shove it." Lance growled as he brushed by the startled boy and into the main entrance. "Where's the professor?"  
  
"Vhat do you think you're doing?" Kurt cried angrily.  
  
"He's takin' responsibility for it, yo!" Todd said immediately upon entrance. Lance rolled his eyes upward, but knew he had to stay on topic.  
  
"Where's the professor?" He demanded again.  
  
Knowing that Professor X was going to find out in a few moments anyway, Kurt pointed wordlessly to the left hall. Lance took off for the study located in that area, knowing that was probably the only place the older man would be.  
  
"Idiots. All men are idiots." Wanda was muttering to herself as she stormed towards the stairway, a good night's rest really the only thing on her mind.  
  
"What about me, yo?" Todd called up, bounding up to the same step as her without much of a sweat.  
  
"Especially you," She growled and continued up, ignoring his cries of fake agony. Her head was pounding, she was confused tired and injured.  
  
Stupid Pietro. What the heck did he think he was doing? Was he trying to sway her over to his side? Was this some sort of game?  
  
He had chosen to stay with Magneto, she had chosen to stay with the . . . at the X-men household. Their paths should barely cross.  
  
And what was Lance trying to do?  
  
Wanda didn't want to think about it. She pushed her door open angrily, fell over onto the bed lifelessly and let sleep overcome her. She was good at pushing thoughts out of her mind.  
  
  
  
  
The professor looked . . . well, he looked how he always looked. To Lance anyway. Like he knew exactly what was going to happen at every second, and he -understood- that you didn't do the same. Always looking perfectly smug.  
  
It really annoyed Lance. Sure, Mystique was the same way, but she didn't pretend to be good or anything.  
  
"Mr. Alvers?" Professor X greeted, as they hadn't said anything to each other since Lance burst into the room.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"May I ask why you've brought Quicksilver here?"  
  
"He . . . um . . . Needs help." He said, feeling strangely like he did in his younger years, when trying to explain why he had stayed out so late. "He was hurt."  
  
"Surely Magneto could provide for him?"  
  
"They left without him." Lance lied, hoping the man wasn't reading his mind. Or body language.  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"  
  
"Yeah. So . . . you know. The X-men motto. Don't do to the bad guys what you wouldn't want them to do unto you . . . or whatever." He said uncomfortably.  
  
"How injured is he?" He asked, coming around to the front of Lance.  
  
"I donno. He passed out after running up twenty floors to catch Wanda."  
  
"Oh?" He sounded again, moving out into the hall and Lance followed wordlessly. He was quiet for a moment. "Mr. McCoy is on the way," He reported eerily, "please take Mr. Maximoff to the infirmary?"  
  
"Right. Okay." He said, and took off in that direction, Pietro's dead weight lifting and falling with each step he took.  
  
He really had no idea why he was doing this. When they had been forced to chose, Magneto or Xavier, Pietro was the only one to stay with the metal man. It had hurt all of the Brotherhood deeply, save Wanda, who seemed to take everything her brother did in stride. He had hated Pietro with a passion for quite some time, but now . . .  
  
Maybe he just wanted things back to the way they were. But he knew he -definitely- didn't want Pietro dead. Besides, maybe if he saw that they were still willing to help each other, he'd join them again?  
  
He didn't really care that all of this was wishful thinking.  
  
  
  
"I can't believe he had the nerve to bring him here." Scott growled to himself as he stormed into the boy's restroom. Kurt's reports were rarely anything but dead on, and if this was no exception.   
  
Lance had been strutting around their home as if he was still some sort of leader. The rest of the team seemed a little a little willing to follow the orders given by the rest of the X-men, but not Lance. He would go off on little missions with his group, sometimes, all alone.  
  
And now, he was actually bringing -Quicksilver- here?  
  
No, the professor wouldn't allow it. He was sure. And if he did, then . . . well, then the professor knew something he didn't. But until he found what this was, exactly, he was going to be extremely angry.  
  
Scott was really very glad that the Brotherhood had joined them. It had felt strange to be fighting not only other mutants, but mutants who were their age, their grade. Who could be their friends.  
  
But Lance wasn't willing to help out at all. As if he resented being forced to chose. And, as if Scott had forced him to do it.  
  
He was going to wait to ask the professor about it, though. He had a feeling the man would be dealing with a lot tonight, and he didn't want to add anything unnecessary to his plate.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
a.n: short, i know. and still, no plot. . sorry it just didn't fit here. next chapter, i swear! 


	3. strange things

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If only he had brought the boy in sooner. If only the conversation between Lance and the Professor hadn't lasted so long. If only Pietro had caught his sister with his stomach rather then lungs. If only …  
  
The elderly man shook his head, knowing trying to place blame was useless; he had learned long ago that to think of 'if only's' and 'what if's' did no good.  
  
He watched with a pained expression as the boy's chest moved up and down-- it was a fast motion, unnaturally so. His ribcage looking twisted and bent. Breathing had to be excruciating. The room was silent, save the sound of a painful wheeze every so often. Originally, they'd hand the boy connected to a normal heart monitor, but the noise had become an almost continual high and annoying beep that drove Henry near mad.  
  
So they'd switched it to a small light that blinked with each pump of blood.  
  
The professor wasn't exactly sure why he was in the room, Pietro wasn't in any need of any supervision. But Xavier's powers often worked in mysterious ways, such as this. He became used to following gut instincts without asking an questions, knowing it would almost always be for the best.  
  
The door opened with an all but silent 'whoosh' and he listened as Scott Summers took a few hesitant steps into the room.  
  
"He's really staying here?" The teen asked, not bothering with greeting. The two rarely ever did-- they both knew that Professor X knew of his arrival long before he made it, which made greetings a vain point.  
  
"Yes, Scott he is." Xavier said, turning to face the boy.  
  
He looked a bit queasy. The professor couldn't blame him, he had no clue as to what Pietro, or any other human for that matter, was feeling or really trying to achieve. It only made sense to be suspicious.  
  
Of course, the only indications he was getting from Quicksilver was a dull, steady feeling on anxiety. This was the customary feeling he got from one when they had passed out during a battle. There body was far too tired or damaged to do anything, but their mind was still worried, completely oblivious to the outcome of whatever happened.  
  
"Why, professor?" Scott asked simply. Really, it was all of his questions rolled into one. Scott was very good at doing this, making all his points very concise; others often mistook it for simplicity, but the elder could see the intelligence it took to make things so condensed and brief.  
  
"I would share with you the reason, but I have a feeling it will be up to Pietro to disclose what happens next."  
  
"So, it's up to him if he stays?" Scott asked, looking relieved. Professor X hardly needed to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking-- Pietro would surely say no. The boy would rather live on the street then with the wittily named 'X-Geeks.'  
  
Of course, that was always a possibility, and if Xavier hadn't see the message from Magneto, he would've most likely agreed with Scott.  
  
"Yes, it is." He said. He could still sense unrest inside the younger leader of the X-men. "Scott, if I thought he was any sort of threat to any member of this team, I would not allow him in."   
  
He nodded, the turbulence within only settling slightly. Xavier sighed to himself. It was up to Scott to grow beyond mistrust. But, as he thought before, he understood the doubt.  
  
He barely had time to sense the anxiety fade into confusion before Pietro's eyes flew open.  
  
He stared at the ceiling blankly for a moment, his eyes focusing quickly.   
  
"Good morning, Pietro." Professor X greeted, as it was just past 9 am.  
  
Scott pushed himself further away, but couldn't bring himself to fully exit the room. He -knew- that the professor could easily take care of any problem. But that didn't necessarily mean that he didn't have to be unaware of it.  
  
The blonde made a strangled noise and shook his head-- he was moving too fast, Scott noted. His features were blurring together as he blinked and moved his mouth. Too fast for anyone to really keep up with.  
  
After a moment of confusion, Pietro stilled and looked around. It didn't take a genius to figure out the basics of what had happened.  
  
"How long have I been out?" He finally mumbled, he was probably blinking at a normal pace, but the sight startled Scott. A flash of peach that never lasted, covering questioning silver eyes. "How's Wanda?"  
  
"Just over two days." Xavier provided helpfully. "Your sister's just fine."  
  
"Great." He groaned, moving to sit up at such a pace that he had sat back before his impression was out of the pillow. "Thanks for everything I'm sure you did for me, but I havta go."  
  
"That's wouldn't be wise," Professor Xavier said quickly, referring to the half-hearted efforts Pietro was making to get off the bed.  
  
"Then what would be?" He growled sarcastically.  
  
"Before I tell you the . . . details of your current situation, I believe there's something much more important to--"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, what is it?" Pietro was more then used to long speeches, thanks to his father. He really didn't see the point of using fourteen different words when three would do, unless you said them quickly. Really, he didn't know how Magneto and Xavier spoke-- circling around the subjects for, he was sure, hours on end.  
  
"A message from your father." Xavier said, seemingly unhurt by Pietro's words, unlike Scott who was gritting his teeth and wishing for a hole to a certain place appear in a very -convenient- place.  
  
That shut him up, Scott saw happily.  
  
Pietro stared at Xavier. "Why would he bother to send a message? I'm going right back to him."  
  
"Perhaps you should watch the memorandum."  
  
Pietro frowned. This was hardly what he called a good morning. He was a bit startled when an actual -screen- started lowering from the ceiling,  
  
"Jeez, how many people get injured, if you've actually bothered to install communication systems in the -infirmary-?!" He demanded, his nervousness having to shot off somewhere.  
  
Xavier just smiled shortly. The screen switched on by some mysterious power (which was not at all mysterious, but just Xavier using his annoyingly creepy powers again).  
  
Scott, burning with curiosity, slowly moved over to the other side of the wall, so as to have a clear view of the screen.  
  
Magneto's frozen expression looked impassive. Pietro swallowed nervously, even though this had been recorded a good day ago and hardly any threat to him.  
  
The message started without warning, and he almost missed the first few words of the speech, but he managed to catch it.  
  
"Greetings, Pietro." He paused here, as if expecting some sort of 'Hello' in return. Pietro said nothing and waited for the real meaning of this. "It's obvious, my son, that you have unresolved feelings for Xavier's trifling assemblage." Pietro had to smile. Any -normal- person probably said the word 'Assemblage' maybe once every two years. Not his father. He'd guess he said it once or twice a month-- after all, he hated being repetitive. "You're position among my own ranks will forever remain an open invitation, but I would like for you to explore any other option that you feel to be viable before returning. There is no feeling worse then regret, and I would never wish it on anyone, let alone my own son. I trust Xavier will find no difficulty accommodating with my wish."  
  
"Oh god." Pietro groaned, slumping back down. "He's gonna kill me."  
  
Scott wanted to ask how he could even come to that conclusion, the video had seemed diplomatic and understanding; but he figured Pietro knew his father better then he would.  
  
"So what's wrong with me then?" He asked. "Why am I still hooked up to all this stuff. I should've healed by now."  
  
The old man took a deep breath. This was the part of the boy's awakening that he had dreaded. "Pietro, has anyone ever told you the specifics of your power?"   
  
He shook his head as slowly as he could bare, head throbbing with every movement.  
  
"The processes of your body is so highly enhanced that you no longer have a need to produce fatigue poisons, which forces the body to rest. Rather, your body is in a constant state of driving out waste products while you run, through exhalation." He explained slowly. "The impact of Wanda colliding into your lungs seriously damaged your respiratory system. That alone would be quite the impairment, but you continued to run afterwards. This created an almost . . . blockage in your body. Your body needs to catch up with the waste you built up in addition to healing."  
  
"So you're saying I can't run?" Pietro asked, rather calmly, leaning back into his bed. "But every other part of my body is still stuck on super speed?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"For how long?"  
  
"I'm not entirely sure." Professor Xavier said, turning from the bed to glance again at the computer screen that had Pietro's vitals listed, even though it told him nothing he didn't already know. "If you were an average human, or even mutant, I would venture at three to four weeks. But I've never had the chance to examine your body as much as I would've liked."  
  
"I see." He murmured, eyes falling to his hands in thought or acceptance; Scott wasn't sure which.  
  
"I take it that you'll be excepting our invitation?"  
  
"Hn."  
  
Correctly translating the non-committing sound, Xavier turned to leave the room, so as to make the finishing arrangements.  
  
And leaving Scott quite awkwardly alone with one of his only true enemies.  
  
Pietro didn't seem to notice however, continuing to stare dully at the most amazing spectacle of blood pumping through his fingers.  
  
Scott didn't like this-- the Quicksilver he knew would hardly take all of this so lightly. He'd throw a fit, whine and punch things. Of course, he had never really bothered to talk to Pietro, outside of battle.  
  
Shaking his head, he started to leave the room, "I'll go tell Lance and the rest of them that you're awake. They're probably worried."  
  
"Summers?" He demanded, finally taking note of the taller boy; it was obvious he hadn't been aware of his presence there. The anger seemed forced, however, and faded rather swiftly. Pietro made a small sound that was bitter and humorless, shaking his head-- "Sure. Whatever."  
  
He hesitated at the doorway. "Um, you know . . . your friends really did miss you. I think they'll be really happy to see you."  
  
"Is this some sort of X-Geek welcoming committee? There's no need to pretend, I hate you and you hate me. This is going to be the worst month of my life. Go ahead and celebrate." He said, giving Scott quite the glare.  
  
Scott returned it, but it was kind of lost in his glasses. "Well, I don't like Lance much either, but that doesn't mean I'm going to celebrate his -misery.-"  
  
"Thanks. I'll remember that." He said sarcastically, looking back to his hands.  
  
Scott was about to storm out of the room, when what the blonde had been through hit him. He couldn't picture anyone being in a pleasant mood afterwards, he imagined even the professor would be a little cranky. Out of any mutant that Scott had -ever- met, Pietro was the only one who seemed at complete peace with his power.  
  
It came as easy to him as breathing, living like he did. It was like an artists hand, or a singers voice. He couldn't even imagine how hard it was going to be for him …  
  
"Hey, I'm sorry." He started again. "What happened really bites. I may not like you very much, but I know that must really suck for you."  
  
Pietro stared, looking confused. Finally he nodded. "Yeah, it really does." A small, wicked smile started up his cheek. "The company I'm keeping doesn't help much either."  
  
"I can imagine." Scott said; it was amazing how much easier Pietro was to deal with once you simply -decided- that you weren't going to be affected by any of his words.  
  
"Hey! Pietro!" A voice suddenly cried, and they both looked up to see Todd bouncing into the room. "I just heard the news, yo! So we're a team again?"  
  
"For a while." The blonde said, watching the teen bound across the room in two long jumps, settling in a chair next to the bed.  
  
Freddy and Lance weren't too far behind, neither paying much attention to Scott as he left.   
  
That is until Pietro had the balls to call out, "See ya Summers!"  
  
Scott yelled back something similar, but didn't turn. Missing Lance's look of surprise and slight anger completely . . .  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
a.n: nope, no slash. that's not slash, just simple rivalry of two leaders. it happens a lot when two teams get mixed and matched.   
  
but dear, sweet aunt alice, i'm having such a hard time not slashing! scott/pietro never even -occurred- to me, and now i'm having to keep a firm clamp down on my slashing instincts … oh, it just seems too good to leave alone … AUGH! but, i won't do that to the people who started reading this under the pretense of straight-ness. ;_; and i was wondering why i couldn't write a lance/pietro or evan/pietro. it's cause i'm a s/p fan!! . WHY do i do this to myself? i'll never find a fic with this coupling … t'oh well … *sniff* 


	4. letting it in

.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Oh, guess what, guess what?" Kitty squealed happily, bounding into a certain fuzzy boy's room. She noted that said boy was laying peacefully on his bed, basking in the warmth of a non-required school day. She would've normally left him to sleep, but this news was too big, and she wanted to see the look on his face.  
  
And she didn't have time for pity -- she had to wake almost all the X-men and tell them the . . . not quite good or bad news. Well, bad for Evan.  
  
He was next on her list, Kitty vowed to herself.  
  
"Good morning!" She said, throwing his curtains open dramatically and turning to see the result of this with a cheerful smile.  
  
That seemed to do the trick. "Vhat?" Kurt asked shortly, his head still attached to his pillow, quite happily I might add. He wiggled for a moment, trying to escape the sun's unrelenting light.  
  
"Scott just told me Pietro is awake!" She said, moving over to the side of his bed. She lined herself up with where she figured his head was most likely to appear after her next bit of news.  
  
Kurt groaned for no other reason then to confirm he had heard what she said.  
  
"And guess what else?" She was bursting with energy, and it startled Kurt, who didn't notice her moving to his side. "Oh, you'll, like, -never- guess this one!"  
  
"Okay, I give up." He said flatly.  
  
"He's -joining- the X-men!"  
  
"Vhat?!" He shot up from the mattress, staring at Kitty, who was suppressing a giggle. "And exactly vhy are -you- so happy about this?"  
  
"Well, it'll make Lance happy! Once he, like, gets over all that angsty stuff." She got up and turned on her heel, off to wake more of her teammates.  
  
"Angsty isn't a word, Kitty." Kurt called after her, curling back up on his bed.  
  
"Like -that's- the thing to be talking about!" She said, dismissing his comment with a flick of her wrist from the doorway. "But, I mean, think of all the stuff he knows!"  
  
"Vhat do you mean?"  
  
"Duh, Kurt." She said, rolling her eyes. "He's Magneto's -son!- He probably knows all sorts of stuff about, like their missions and other stuff."  
  
Kurt, who's only goal was to get back to sleep and hopefully not have a strange dream concerning the news he had just heard, just shrugged, wiggling deeper into the sheets. He ignored Kitty's 'tsk' of disapproval easily as he slipped back into his dream world.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Your brother is awake!" There was silence. This unnerved the girl, who had just previously be taking such joy out of her friend's similar reactions. Of course, she knew her friends and wasn't worried about getting impaled with something while around them. At least, not -by- them. "I just thought you, um, might want to know, you know?" She finished hesitantly.  
  
"Yeah." Wanda said flatly, not tearing her gaze away from her oh-so-important bowl of ravioli as she walked from the kitchen and into the dinning hall. She pushed the more heated of the chunks of meat to the top, to cool them off. She hated burning her tongue.  
  
Wanda resisted the urge, as always, to knock the overly elegant, stylish glass cups that sat on the table, waiting for drinks as simple as orange juice. This place could really get on someone's nerves, if you let it. She sat down at the table, ignoring the large glass plate, setting her plastic bowl on top of it.  
  
"Are you gonna go, um, see him?" Kitty asked nervously, "And why are you eating ravioli? It's breakfast time."  
  
Wanda finally looked up at the perky teen in disbelief over her last statement. After a moment, she rolled her eyes, "Kid, you lead a sheltered life."  
  
"So . . . You're not gonna?" She asked, coming dangerously close to a pout.  
  
"Not right now." She said. "Maybe after I finish this."  
  
Kitty looked at the troubled girl with an expression that looked about at home on her face as a bright, glittery smile on Logan's.  
  
Deep, thoughtful pondering.  
  
Finally she shook her head, "I know you were worried about him, Miss I'm-So-Tough-I-Like-To-Pretend-I-Don't-Care-About-Anything-Except-I-Like-Totally-Do."  
  
"And how would -you- know that?" Wanda scoffed giving the valley girl a look that wouldn't be described as welcoming. Unless you were confused or crazy. Then it might be described that way.  
  
"You were in the infirmary, like, all last night." Kitty said. "And I've been in that place before. It's totally boring, so you -so- weren't there for the scenery."  
  
"Well, sometimes it's easier to be around someone when they're unconscious and not talking. Like you, for example." Wanda looked back to her steaming bowl of ravioli, content enough to ignore any further conversation Kitty wished to engage in.  
  
But the girl didn't; simply making a sound of frustration before leaving the room.  
  
Wanda was a little put off that the Ditz had known where she was last night-- she hated it when people monitored her actions without her permission, which probably steamed from a lifetime of being under constant, unending observation.  
  
She wasn't even all that sure why she had gone to Pietro. Watching her brother while he slept was something she hadn't done for ages, but she had always enjoyed it. As a much younger girl, she used to get her fingers wet with ice cold water and touch whatever body part Pietro happened to have sticking out of the blankets -- it was almost always his legs, and watch him squirm in his sleep.  
  
He was a 'heater,' wearing only boxers in the coldest nights of winter, his body creating a temperature that he hardly needed. A blanket was scarcely a necessity for Pietro. Or at least, he used to be.  
  
He had been so cold in the infirmary …  
  
Wanda shook it off. She didn't think dwelling on memories led to any sort of self-discovery, but perhaps madness. Wanda thought almost anything in excess lead to insanity, however.  
  
But she really did wish for things to back to the way they were. Before either of them had any powers, before things got to complicated. Before their -father.-  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"What did Summers want to talk to you about?" Lance was asking, his tone unguardedly dark. He gave the empty hall one more glance of distrust before turning to look at his . . . former friend? Rival? Were they really anything anymore?   
  
Lance never really thought it necessary to put labels on things, and was out of practice when it came to gray areas. It was easy to brand Pietro as enemy, but he wanted to make sure he got it right.  
  
"Just the average, 'Welcome to the X-Nerds, your life has now officially crossed into geekdom,' speech that you probably got." Pietro answered with a sort of smile that would tip anyone that knew him off that the last expression he wanted on his face was a smile.  
  
"Man, you've been asleep for –days-, yo! What happened?" Todd asked, positioning himself in a very Todd-like stance; arms crossed, resting on the top of the back, while his feet pointed outwards, hunched over on the seat.  
  
Pietro opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed to get stuck, his face suddenly shying away in pain. He cleared it abruptly with the cheery question, "Hey, where's Wanda?"  
  
Lance scowled, ready to dish out a very cutting, cruel remark about how his sister had every right to be as far away from him as possible.  
  
But . . .   
  
Normally, (not that this situation happened all that often) he would've been angry, or at least held a grudge, but he really couldn't bring himself to. Either because of the threat Summers suddenly appeared to be, or how pathetic and sad Pietro looked while laying in bed, fidgeting incessantly with days of pent up energy, he just sighed deeply.  
  
"She's upstairs, I think. Don't know if she knows you're awake yet."  
  
"Right," He said in an unbelieving tone.  
  
"So, you've joined us again?" Freddie asked, looking hopeful, and doing a piss poor job of trying to hide it.  
  
"I'm not sure." Pietro said, and attempted to hold a breath, only to find his lungs impossibly weak and unable to perform this rather easy task. No real pain involved, just . . . nothing. Absolutely -nothing- happened, save his chest continuing to rise and fall. Complete vulnerability.  
  
He waited patiently for the other shoe to drop. He knew they were mad at him-- they had to be. This was second time he had betrayed them, and in a way he didn't think he could forgive any of them for.   
  
Not a simple line in the sand, but a definite line, hard and unwavering as any wall of concrete. He seriously doubted they'd let him pass through it as easily as stepping over a mark on the ground.  
  
But as he looked up and met each of their gazes, he saw little or no anger. No resentment.  
  
Was this some new form of torture the X-Geeks taught them?  
  
Pietro swallowed, "So . . . lemme have it."  
  
"What?" Todd asked, appearing confused.  
  
"Come on, you all think I screwed up, are you just going to ignore it?" He said, sounding stiff.  
  
Todd and Freddie exchanged a look, while Lance kept his gaze staring steadily forward, his expression was -there-, open and unhidden. It was just unreadable.   
  
Finally, Todd opened his mouth, "You did screw up, yo. Big time. And we were really pissed at ya, but…"  
  
"You almost died, Pietro. You were really close." Lance suddenly burst out, unable to dance around any subject for long. Pietro stared at Lance in surprise, eyes wide as he continued, "I guess it helps put things in perspective."  
  
"Besides," Freddie said. "I did something thinking, and I can kinda understand goin' with your dad. He's your dad; I think I'd go with mine, too, if I ever saw him. But you're back now, right?"  
  
Pietro stared blankly forward, listening intently to the large boy's words, starting to feel a little dizzy. He glanced up at his teammates and sighed inwardly.  
  
They were steadily moving slower and slower, their movements now looking unnecessarily thought out as they merely shuffled every so often or blinked.   
  
This was the common reaction to the world around him once he started stressing. He had to calm down, "I'm not really--"  
  
"Yes or no Pietro." Lance said coldly, sensing the continuing betrayal, his words annoyingly thick and gradual to the blonde, who's personal time was increasing hand in hand with his anxiety. He was growing oddly dizzy, too. He tried to shrug it off and focus.  
  
To say 'No' would mean so many things. It would mean a place with his father. It would mean betrayal for a third, somehow even more unforgivable way then before. He sighed shakily. He was taking his time, not that meant much in this world. He found he was having to take his air in quiet gasps, his chest stuck in the time warp with the rest of the world . . .  
  
Finally he nodded. "Yeah. I'm back." He said.  
  
"Cool, yo!" Todd's excited flip off the chair and onto the ground looked all the more spectacular in Pietro's sluggish world. "I'm gonna go tell Wanda!"  
  
Pietro blinked, watching as, impossibly, the room slowed down even -more,- his need for oxygen growing … there were black dots beginning to dance in front of him … This wasn't normal … this wasn't right … this had never happened …  
  
Someone was making a sound, but he couldn't understand it, it was moving too slowly. Just a low, steady groan, shifting up and down in pitch at a rate that was too slothful for him to really notice-- it was Lance. He was saying something.  
  
"What?" He gasped out, and it was obvious from the unchanging expression that Lance didn't, couldn't, register it yet. "What the hell? What's going on?" He breathed hopelessly, knowing the words would probably just be translated into a hum of noise that no one would be able to understand.  
  
It seemed to take Lance half hour to get to the door, Freddie only shifting slightly where he stood, unable to do much of anything else.  
  
'Fucking hell.' He thought to himself angrily.   
  
This had to be one of the worst mornings of his life. Seriously.  
  
  
  
  
  
Scott muttered to himself as he moved down the hall.   
  
He really hoped this didn't become a habit-- he didn't like being used as a messenger boy. He was being stupid and petty, he knew, but he didn't care.  
  
That look Lance shot him as he left; as if he was kicking Maximoff! They had just been -talking.- Not even that, really.  
  
Lance was starting to grind his nerves in ways he really didn't think possible. He had decided to simply not be around the brunette, but now, he'd have to go and interrupt the great Brotherhood reunion. But, then again, maybe they'd be happy to hear Pietro's room was ready-- he didn't pretend to know how the Brotherhood thought.  
  
But he knew they'd hate to see his face again. Sometimes, for being a mind reader, he thought Professor X was awfully thick.  
  
He started down the stairs that led to infirmary, only to have a speeding body slam against his, without so much as a 'Excuse me.'  
  
"Oaf!--" Scott stumbled backwards, grabbing frantically for his glasses, which, to his horror, started slipping down his nose. He regained his footing before glaring at the offensive boy. "Alvers, what's the--"  
  
"There's something wrong with Pietro!" Lance cried, brushing past Scott without another word or glance, and down the hallway, most likely to go grab Mr. McCoy.  
  
That caught Scott's attention. Well, curiosity more then anything else.  
  
He started down the hall, his pace increasing just slightly.  
  
Just like Pietro to attempted an even -more- spectacular entrance then he'd made already. Of course, the other was almost Lance's fault … huh. Who knew he had a flair for dramatics?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
a.n: slow moving … i'm getting a little annoyed with how slowly it's moving … oh well. give review, get chapter. it's kind like the barter system. ^___^ 


	5. waking up

.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"He's blue, man, he's -blue-!" Was the first thing Scott heard when he walked into the infirmary. Freddie was standing at the foot of Pietro's bed, looking frantic, unsure of what to do to help the smaller, who was laying limp on the bed.  
  
Scott froze at the sight--Freddie wasn't lying, he was -blue.- It could've simply stood out more because of his already pale skin and locks of pure white hair, but that realization didn't help Scott at all. His eyes widened, and he almost fell backwards at the shocking picture.   
  
He all but ran forward to Pietro's bedside, full leader-mood engaged, trying to think of anything that would help the situation.  
  
"Summers? Why are -you- here? You can't help!" Freddie was saying, he was growing more anxious by the second.  
  
Pietro's lips were a deep, sapphire blue, and his eyes were half-closed; what Scott could see of them were blood red. The irony that this was usually vice versa was wasted on Scott.  
  
"Is he choking?" He finally managed to demand, turning to stare at Freddie, who just met his gaze helplessly.  
  
He had taken first aid but he couldn't remember; what was he supposed to do?! First aid . . . the heart!  
  
Scott pressed one hand against Pietro's chest to feel for its beating, while the other grabbed his wrist, in case he couldn't feel the heart through his lungs.  
  
He didn't need to, however, Pietro's heart was beating frantically underneath his palm, at an even faster rate then before, if that was even possible. It was almost impossible to think that busily moving and beating heart was connected to that cold, lifeless face.  
  
Okay, so … what the heck did -that- mean? Scott couldn't remember! A lot of use he was, Scott thought bitterly.  
  
He didn't get the chance to dwell on it, however as the door flew open.   
  
Finally, Mr. McCoy bolted into the room. He took one look at Pietro and ran to another section of the room, where cabinets lay in wait.  
  
"I was afraid this was going to happen." The large doctor was muttering to himself as he grabbed a random needle. He tapped the thin metal as he approached quickly. "It would be best if you both waited outside. I wouldn't describe this process as pleasant." He said almost absentmindedly as he injected the clear liquid into Pietro's pale arm.  
  
Scott did as he was told, the last thing he wanted to do was interfere by getting in Mr. McCoy's way.  
  
Freddie seemed to be stuck, however, staring down at, quite possibly, the thinnest member of the Brotherhood.  
  
"Come on," He called to the large boy, well aware of the fact that they were of no use. It took Freddie a moment to listen, seeming mesmerized.  
  
They slowly trooped out, brushing past Lance, who gave Scott the official, 'I don't like you but can't do anything about it right now, but that doesn't mean I like you, cause I don't' look.  
  
Mr. McCoy watched the teen on the bed closely, and seeing no immediate change in manner, refilled the needle and injected into the boy once again.  
  
The effect was immediate, and rather disturbing--he hadn't lied, it was the main reason he had asked Freddie to leave.  
  
"GA-ah!" The strangled screech didn't sound human-- as if it were fighting to even break free of the pale throat. It echoed across the room as Pietro started withering on the bed, clawing uselessly on the sheets, his still numb face twisting in agony.  
  
Mr. McCoy watched impassively, but was still mildly startled at the next, expected stage.  
  
Pietro shot up in bed, screaming louder then ever, his chest finally able to rip in oxygen at a rate that was useful, his eyes were wide and blood shot, his skin still as dark as ever. Henry knew the boy would have no memory of this later.  
  
Suddenly, all sounds halted.  
  
He dropped to the bed as his eyes rolled back into his head, the dark, raging blue already calming to a lighter shade.  
  
The echo lingered only for a moment, and Henry sighed in relief as he checked over the patients vitals, and properly inhaling chest.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Henry had to admit the voice took him by surprise-- even with his enhanced abilities. He supposed he had been too concentrated on the boy to really pay attention to his surroundings, even the sound of a teenage girl walking to the same room as himself.  
  
"Wanda," He greeted.  
  
"What happened?" She repeated coldly, meeting Henry in the eye. That was something not many could achieve, not while he was in his natural form, let alone a teen. "Why is he . . . -blue-?"  
  
He saw no reason to lie. "To combat the injury Quicksilver gained in the battle, to his lungs, we had to put a sort of sedation on the entire system, so it could heal properly."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Well, the rest of his body continued to work at it's normal pace. This left him hard pressed for any oxygen." He explained.  
  
"So what'd you just do?" She asked, looking oddly protective for a sibling who swore life long hatred. "What'd you put in him?"  
  
"It's a stronger brand of the same sedation, to keep his body in sync (a.n: no jokes. i swear, one joke and you're all goin' down. this is serious business, dang it!)," He said. "The effect was immediate, and he took over the rest, as you just witnessed."  
  
"Why was he screaming?" She finally growled out, and wasn't until she demanded this that Henry realized that was what she had been trying to get across the entire time.  
  
"His entire upper body had gone numb, completely asleep." He said. "You've experienced such feelings I'm sure, with your foot or leg?"  
  
She nodded shortly.  
  
"That was the pain of his mind . . . waking up, if you will. Regaining sensation." He said. "The sedative also has a sort of burning sensation, or so I'm told. He won't remember it, of course," He added quickly, catching the angry glint beginning to form in her face, and assuming it had to do with the pain her twin had been experiencing.  
  
The annoyance died, and Wanda gave Mr. McCoy a weary look before taking her quietly wheezing brother in. He was now an attractive shade of baby blue. But instead of his trademark, curled up position, he was laying as he fell, arms flaccid and inert at his side, head turned to the side.  
  
Mr. McCoy wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting, but definitely not for the girl to suddenly let out an enraged growl and storm out of the room, as if the sight of Pietro offended her deeply on some level.  
  
But, he had given up on understanding teenagers years ago.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jean Gray did not believe in sleeping in. She also did not believe in waiting for the last possible moment to study for a test or using the very last drop of hot water while in the shower.  
  
Oddly enough, she had broken all three of these beliefs in less then the time period that Pietro had come to stay at then mansion, and even stranger then that, each of these things were closely related to each other. She had exited out of her room once a day, to go to school.  
  
Which manage to explain her extremely baffled face upon entering the living room, and overhearing only, "--So, like, his ribs are -cracked- from being hit or did they say? Cause I think it would take, like, a lot to make someone turn -blue-." That was, of course, Kitty.  
  
"They didn't say." Wanda replied flatly.  
  
"What's going on?" Jean asked, looking over the group curiously. Since when did Kitty have anything to say to Wanda, or even sit in the same room together?  
  
The Brotherhood and Kitty quickly filled her in; Kitty was amazed that she had managed to miss the redhead in her early wake up call, but it was decided that Jean must've been in the shower at the time.  
  
She had just gotten seated when Evan stumbled in, asking about the latest "attempt for attention by Maximoff."   
  
All conversation was stopped as they looked up and saw a familiar body in the door way.  
  
"Whoa," Pietro's voice was slightly deeper then any was necessarily used to hearing it. They all turned to stare at the blonde, who was staring at his hand in amazement.  
  
"What are you doing out of bed? Did Mr. McCoy let you?" Jean asked for no other purpose then to affirm that she knew what was going on.  
  
"He didn't -stop- me." Pietro said, very lazily and slow, then suddenly swung his arm, watching it's movement in amazement.  
  
"You're asking the wrong questions." Todd said flatly. "Pietro, was Mr. McCoy there?"  
  
"Nope." He said, swing his arm back in front of him. "Whoa, look at this," He said suddenly, but still in a sluggish tone that none could ever recognize him using in the past.  
  
They all watched as he did the same arm movement as before, looking absolutely fascinated.  
  
"Um, what?" Freddie finally got the nerve up to ask.  
  
"No blurred edges, no whooshing sound." He looked at Lance, "I'll bet you can even see it."  
  
"Yes, we can." Lance said in a humoring tone, appearing a bit worried. Pietro would have to go insane -in front- of everyone, wouldn't he? No, he couldn't do it in private, where he had a chance to hide it.  
  
"I'm doing it as fast as I can, Lance!" He said shortly, not at all pleased with the 'I'm pitying you' tone. He waved his arm again, just in case one of the students present in the room had missed this stunning feat before. "I haven't felt this doped up since I was drugged with Ritalin."  
  
They all waited silently for the hyper boy's reaction to his predicament, which they were all sure would result in a fit that would rival Wanda on her worst of days.  
  
He blinked, then suddenly darted from the doorway. "Chocolate!"  
  
The silence continued for a beat longer.  
  
"Uh … okay." Evan finally blurted.  
  
"Did he say chocolate?"  
  
  
  
  
  
a.n: my attempts to make this less pietro-centric have failed miserably. t'oh well. if you cross your fingers and hope, the next chapter might just be longer… ^^;;;;; 


	6. life still bites

a.n: i've mentioned this before, but i'm really not happy with the pacing of this story … . which explains my following statement: the amount of self-control it took to get myself to sit down and focus on this is dedicated to Scribbler. not the chapter itself, however. i do not think it is worthy of a dedication…  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Crap," Lance burst after a moment, taking off after the rather disoriented blonde.  
  
The group stared after Lance for a beat or two, then each teen turned to Todd for an explanation. He didn't seem to notice.  
  
"What's wrong with chocolate?" Scott finally asked.  
  
"Think about it, yo." Todd said patronizingly to the leader of the X-men while rolling his eyes. "Pietro's annoying enough on his own, you don't even want to think about him on a sugar high. I don't think we've have anything caffeine at the Brotherhood for months, yo."  
  
"Oh." The group of X-men chorused monotonously.   
  
They had heard many stories of life at the Brotherhood, not many of them usually included Pietro however, the boy having been a sort of tabooed subject. Perhaps it was a sick sort of curiosity, but the entire group was suddenly hit with a deep need to watch the drama unfold, and slowly filtered out of the room and moved down to the kitchen.  
  
There was quite of bit of mysterious and slightly disturbing sounds echoing throughout the hall the lead them to the kitchen. It grew louder as they drew closer, and they could identify it as cupboard's being opened and closed at a rapid pace.  
  
A loud crash just before entering, and Scott had to quickly subdue a feeling of dread, unaware that many of his companions were doing the same.   
  
"No! No, I can have it!" Pietro was crying, trying to yank what looked like a bag of multi-colored, happily wrapped chocolate bars from Lance, which didn't work all that well, since he couldn't even get a proper grip on it.  
  
"No." Lance said flatly, easily keeping the chocolate out of Pietro's reach.  
  
"You power freak; you just want me to get your 'permission' to do anything!" He fixed Lance with an unimpressed stare. "Come -on-, I never get to have it!"  
  
Jean had to literally stop herself from laughing at the sight; Lance had his foot calmly pressed against Pietro's chest as he pushed the lanky blonde away from the large bag of candy bars that he seemed rather set on devouring. Adding extra protection by holding the desired candy over his head.  
  
Evan had no idea there was a stash of candy at the mansion, and ruefully wondered how Pietro had gotten a hold of it so quickly, especially without his mutation.  
  
He said nothing about that, as none of the slack-jawed teenagers did, too stunned to do more then stare.  
  
"Give it to me." Pietro snapped, and neither was really sure if it was because of the especially high jump or because Lance just gave in, but in either case, Pietro got the snacks.  
  
Holding it close to his chest, he ripped open the bag, which seemed to be leftovers from Halloween.  
  
With an annoyed rolling of eyes, Lance left the room, muttering something to the effect of, "Fine, gorge yourself and turn into Freddie if you want to."  
  
A few of the older students followed, but Jean stayed behind along with Evan and Todd, really too nosey for her own good. And it would only make sense that Evan was the first to build up the courage to comment, he had known Pietro the longest after all.   
  
"You act like it's gonna get up and walk away." Evan laughed at the way Pietro almost cradled the bag close to his body, almost shuddering in pleasure as he quickly yanked the wrapper away from the chocolate.  
  
"Whatever Daniels." Pietro said offhandedly, munching happily on his Crunch bar. "I'm just enjoying myself -- and at least I'm not the one who has an unnatural obsession with my aunt's bathroom supplies."  
  
The expression on Evan's face clearly stated there was more to this story then Pietro had said. Well, there would almost have to be.  
  
Jean started at the sudden anger felt by Evan, but Pietro seemed oblivious to it, eating his food with enough joy that Jean could practically feel it.  
  
"At least before you had an excuse," Evan muttered angrily. It looked as if he were torn between anger and disgust.  
  
Pietro's back stiffened visibly. He slowly turned to face Evan, eyes immediately darkening in anger. Didn't miss that. She could feel his frustration more the anything else. She supposed she could understand, he had just woken up, after all.  
  
And for the first time, Jean noticed the extreme difference in the two. When one thought of comparing the Brotherhood to the X-men, one usually thought of Lance and Scott. Both an embodiment of their establishments beliefs. Both so contrasting, it was easy to compare the two; easy to see where the line was drawn.  
  
On a completely different level, it seemed that it was just as simple with these two. Pietro, undoubtedly forced to grow up at rate that was unnatural, along with the rest of his teammates. Dark and dangerous when he needed to be, deadly serious when it came to his pride and principles.  
  
Evan, on the other hand, raised with a sense of acceptance and hope. The scuffles obviously didn't mean as much to Evan as they did to his opponents, his consequences not nearly as dire, mentally or psychically.  
  
Pietro suddenly reminded Jean of a duck, calm on the surface, but with unresolved anger boiling and churning around inside, ready to find the perfect outlet. He kept such firm control over his emotions, didn't he? Clamped down everything until moments like these arrived.  
  
"And just what is that supposed mean Daniels?" He hissed.  
  
Jean was perfectly silent as Evan shrugged one shoulder lazily. "You're acting like a two year-old, Maxi." Evan enjoyed using the nickname, and the sudden flash of woman's menstrual product flashed in Jean's mind, told her exactly why.  
  
Pietro didn't seem to make the connection, his glare unwavering in intensity.  
  
"Going on about candy like that," Evan continued, and Jean wondered if he was aware of the sort of anger these words were making. "When you were all hyper, at least then I could sort of blame it on your mutation, but I guess I was wrong."  
  
Jean could see the fight that ensued coming, but she could really do nothing to stop it. Not if she wanted her new source of grand entertainment to discontinue, anyway.  
  
She watched with avid interest as the insults grew in anger and it didn't take long for the physical blows to come.  
  
  
  
Pietro had taken some hard knocks in his life. Some, he didn't care to think about, and some were just strange.  
  
Some were life-altering and some were just stupid.  
  
But none could come close to biting nearly as badly as this one.  
  
"… So, can you even do one push up?"  
  
"Shut up." He bit defensively, sitting on the X-men couch, a ice pack pressed against the entire left side of his face, where he had been completely unable to defend against Evan's attack. It hadn't even been all that -good- of a hit, either.  
  
"I don't think he can. How about a pull up? If I knocked you over, how long would it take you to get back up?"  
  
"I can't believe the sedative was that strong … can you lift this book up?"  
  
"Leave me alone."  
  
"How long do you think it'll last?"  
  
"I don't know, but eating all that chocolate can't be helping."  
  
"Shut up." Pietro gritted out again, curling one arm around his 'bag of fun' protectively. He was going to Surge, too, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. He had missed the sweet tastes of fatty fluffs of unhealthy food for far too long to give it up at the only chance he was bound to have for some while.  
  
"So, he can't run and his arms are about as strong as spaghetti." Todd assessed officially.  
  
"I think you should remember that this is a -temporary- state of being for me. Whereas for you, when I get fixed we will no longer be on equal ground and I -will- kill you."  
  
Todd, who had tuned out sometime in the middle of that, just rolled his eyes, "Right, whatever yo. Seriously, can you lift up this book?"  
  
Pietro wasn't entirely sure, and didn't want to test it out.  
  
He stood and stormed out of the room, not really sure where he was headed, but he was definitely -storming- there.  
  
  
  
  
You could have -such- power, dear child . . . if you were just to come to us. Anything you wanted at all, little one. Any hope, any dream, any desire . . .   
  
It could be so sweet, dear child, if you simply let go and allowed us in, dear child. Little one, there is so much you do not understand, but we are willing . . . become one with us.  
  
You will not need to fear a mortal death, all will be grand. Come with us, our dear child. We could show you wonders and marvels beyond any you could possibly imagine.  
  
You possess the talent, little one, you have it in you. We could set it free, dear child, allow you to wander in lands and travel in places only your dreams could lead you . . .  
  
If you only listen to us, little one . . .  
  
Little one . . .   
  
Little one . . .   
  
Wanda . . .  
  
Wanda . . .  
  
"Wanda!"  
  
"Wha--" Wanda chocked out, straightening in her bed immediately, every muscle in her body tense as she prepared for large, muscled arms to jerk her body around, to calm her down from a nightmare that could surely have disastrous affects on her mental health. It took a moment of deep, panting breathes to realize that she was no longer in the asylum.  
  
She met the concerned blue eyes that were perfect reflections of her own. "Pietro," She said slowly.  
  
"Uh . . . Yeah." He said, suddenly uncomfortable, and creating as much distance between himself and his sister without falling off the bed. "You were doing the whole . . . you know, nightmare thing, "  
  
He winced inwardly at his 'Kitty-grammar' but Wanda said nothing about it. Just like he didn't ask why Wanda was taking a nap at lunchtime. Although the answer (she was in the infirmary all night) would've pleased him. Had she told him the truth, that is.  
  
"Oh," She looked a little confused. She stared at Pietro's face for a moment longer, as she were trying to place it. "Goodnight."  
  
Convinced the odd words were nothing more then a dream, she shook her head. If she could have anything she wanted . . . Well, Pietro would sure be a different person, that's for sure. Not a mini-me of her father. Her twin, the twin that she remembered . . .   
  
  
  
  
  
. 


End file.
